


Dancing With You

by sunsetsky



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetsky/pseuds/sunsetsky
Summary: What if their disagreement happened earlier than it did? The two painfully in love idiots navigate life at Clyvedon before The Scandal.Still has the piano scene, but AU when they meet for dinner.
Relationships: Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton
Comments: 40
Kudos: 91





	1. Mismatched Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I personally wanted to see more dragged out tension and some fluff and intimate touches that didn't involve sex.. so yes here's my take on how it would have played out :D Please comment and let me know what you think!! <3

Standing in the doorway, Daphne held onto the door frame for a moment, taking in the details of her new surroundings much more seriously than the first time she looked into the room. It was decorated with patterns only slightly out of fashion, but well furnished, and looked almost as comfortable as that of the Duke’s. 

But the Duchess’ chamber still felt uninviting. 

Maybe it was the curtains, brighter than she was used to. Or perhaps, the awkwardly placed chaise that faced away from the door in the middle of the room. Maybe… maybe her heart was just missing more than it should. 

Daphne took a deep breath, and pushed off from the door frame, careful not to drop the candle in her left hand. Her ring clinks against the metal of the candleholder, a constant reminder of the loneliness that she’s about to face for— she’s not sure how long. Against the silence of the estate, those tiny clinks are deafening, each one highlighting the ever present ache in her chest. 

Setting the candle on the nightstand, she lifted the covers and got into bed. It dipped where she'd settled herself, remaining perfectly kempt on the other side. Usually by this time, Simon would've placed kisses on her, wherever he could reach, whether or not it was followed by other rigorous activities. His warmth would be tuck into bed with her, and she would feel safe, comfortable,  _ home _ .

Laying on her side, Daphne hugged her knees to her chest and breathed deeply, evenly, hoping that mimicking the patterns of sleep would allow her to succumb to it. In for six, out for eight…

… Yet her thoughts still dominate.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

As she changed and headed down for breakfast, Daphne noted the emptiness of the estate. It had never felt that way before, not when she was with Simon. There was always something going on, something that she could do, but now it seemed painfully quiet, and she yearned for her younger siblings, always a ruckus, but a brilliant distraction. 

Taking her usual seat, she realised that the table had only been set for one. 

“Is the Duke not joining us for breakfast?” She asked the servants standing round. 

“No, Your Grace. The Duke received multiple accounts this morning that he is to see to.” Someone to her right replied, in such a practiced tone that couldn’t possibly be missed. 

Daphne seethed; she did not do anything to deserve this silent treatment. He dares not even so much as show his face at breakfast. Well then, if that was the game that they were playing, she shall not be left behind in the dust. Taking little bites of everything on her plate, she soon stood up and swiftly strode out of the dining room, unable to handle the rather confused glances that the staff have been giving her. 

In the hallway, she found herself surrounded by places where they’ve both explored before, the walls now forever tainted with the echoes of their past couplings. Her heart ached at the memories, for those carefree days filled with excitement and— dare she say— love, were long past now. Perhaps it had been too bold of her to assume that their relationship would be long lasting, that he had returned her affections with the utmost sincerity. There was obviously something holding him back, if only she knew what.

At the end of her long walk, she found herself at yet another drawing room, one that was bathed in the natural morning light. A pianoforte sat near the door that opened towards the grounds, and that was enough to engage her— she supposed she could liven her spirits with a song, if not, at least it could provide her a chance of emotional release.

Taking her place before the instrument, she looked through the scores and found a fast paced piece that should be able to clearly highlight her discontent, for wherever her husband was in the house he could surely hear snippets of it, should she play it aggressively enough. Giving her fingers a quick stretch, Daphne set off perfecting the piece. 

* * *

She was at the beginning of a full run through when she heard the sound of the gunshot. Turning her head, she finally caught the first glimpse of her husband for the day, radiating masculine energy as he stood poised with a gun on his right shoulder. Annoyed, she turned back to restart her piece, only to be disturbed yet again by another gunshot. 

Absolutely frustrated now, she stood up and walked towards the glass door that separated them, opening it— just as she did with her heart— loud enough, she was sure, for him to notice. 

Pleased with her actions, she resumed her original position at the pianoforte, and began playing the piece more forcefully than before. Not stopping this time, despite the multiple gunshots in the distance; there was no doubt that her husband had realised her intentions now.

As she finally finished the piece, Daphne let out a sigh of relief, and tilted her head from side to side to release the tension that had gathered there from her hours at the instrument. She moved to look out the door, meeting Simon’s intense stare for the first time since their argument the night before. 

Daphne had always loved her husband’s eyes, for they were so expressive, yet constantly had an air of mystery around them. Now they were hard, she knew, probably still containing his anger at her actions, for which she still did not understand. If he had not withheld information from her, she probably would not have been as wilful as she had. 

* * *

It was dinner when they saw each other next. Daphne had occupied her afternoon by taking a walk around the village. The tenants still hadn't forgiven her for disrupting their businesses yet, but she did her best to learn how they functioned, so that she could at least be a Duchess that was worthy of their respect one day. 

The dining room was silent, save for their forks slightly scraping against the surface of their plates— one could not say that Daphne didn’t try her hardest to get a rise out of her husband, if only just to hear his voice. Her unwavering glare fixed across the table, only to be met with Simon’s less than concerned gaze, most of the time avoiding her own. 

She hated the silent game. This was probably the first time in their entire relationship that either of them actually had nothing to say to the other and even a knife couldn’t cut the tension in the room. Well, to be fair, it was not that she had nothing to say, Daphne was just tired of always being the one to initiate conversation between them. While she was certainly still rather neat most of the time, she was no longer chaste nor desperate.

Letting out a short sigh, Daphne turned to her lady’s maid with a request, “Rose, do have my room prepared for me, I shall be retiring early tonight.” 

“Is my company that undesirable, Your Grace, that you should be leaving just as quickly as you arrived?” Simon snarked from the other end of the table. 

“Well, perhaps I should think that you find my company most undesirable indeed, seeing as not only was I left to have my breakfast alone this morning, but also to spend the rest of the day without even a sight of you, since your early afternoon rounds of fowling,” Daphne retorted, raising her eyebrow as she stood from her seat. 

“Daph-”

“Is there anything else of importance, Your Grace? If not, I shall take my leave.” With that, not giving Simon enough time to argue, Daphne glided out of the dining room.

She kept her head held high as she walked through the house— there was no reason to show weakness to the staff she hadn’t quite familiarised herself with— only letting her mask fall once Rose had redressed her in her nightclothes and left the room. 

Daphne stood at the window, eyes never leaving the extensive grounds of the estate and cloudless night sky before it. But if one were to ask her how beautiful was that night, she wouldn’t be able to recall it (despite her eye for detail), for she was consumed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings, more so than the previous night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up in a few days!


	2. May I have this dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh thank you guys so much for the wonderful response to the previous chapter <3 Here's some wholesome fluff to break the tension and hopefully warm your hearts a little :>

Warm, cozy, comfortable. 

That's how Daphne woke the next morning. She has no memory of tucking herself into bed— in fact, she doesn't even remember ever shifting from the window. She could have possibly taken a seat at the ledge for a while, but moved across the room? That was strange.

Sitting up, she finds a note waiting for her on the nightstand, weighed down by the candleholder and the inch of wax that still stood firm. 

_I'll be in the village today._

_Always yours, Simon_

The ink was thick where he’d signed off, betraying his hesitation, though at what she was unsure; writing her the note, or the informal, intimate signature. Nonetheless, Daphne recognised the note for what it was: an olive branch. 

Deciding that she should at least give her husband a chance, Daphne got dressed and headed to the kitchens to grab a quick snack for breakfast. She’d also instructed the cook to prepare some sweet treats so that she could share them with the children. They’d probably enjoy a mid-morning snack, after all, it was quite a walk to the village.

Picnic basket in hand, Daphne left the house in her most comfortable dress, and a sort of lightness to her steps.

* * *

_It truly is a wonderful day to be out_ , Daphne mused. While the sun was shining in all its glory, there was just enough cloud cover to not make it sweltering. If things hadn’t been this tense between them, Simon might have suggested they take out the horses for a ride, it would’ve been nice to enjoy the freedom they had here in the countryside. 

Alas, not all things were meant to be perfect, life never is. 

She’ll just have to make the best of it, for the both of them. 

Smiling and greeting the villagers she passed, Daphne made her way to the town centre, which was more often than not, buzzing with activities on mornings like these. She was just trading pleasantries with the baker when she felt a tug on her skirt.

Looking down, she saw a young girl, who must have been no more than six, hair tied in two plaited pigtails, with her hands behind her back. 

Daphne turned back to her conversation partner, giving him a nod and promising to visit again soon, before giving her attention to the child patiently waiting on her left. She knelt down to meet the child’s eyes, and, with a smile that one could only give children, asked, “Did you need something, dearest?”

The girl looked backward before meeting her gaze again, and then she presented her with a flower. “Mummy said all pretty girls deserve flowers,” the girl said shyly, “and you’re a pretty girl.” 

She twirled the flower in her hand as she spoke, a gesture that Daphne herself used to favour, especially when picking out flowers from her mother’s garden. She would take the best ones of the season, and run off towards her father’s study. No matter how busy he was, her father would always pick her up— bouquet, mud and grass on her person— and set her on his lap, before taking the flowers one by one, and weaving them into a crown. 

“ _There, now you look just like a princess_ ,” he’d always said. 

Daphne’s eyes watered at the memory, but she gently took the daisy from the girl’s hands, asking if she knew where to get more of them. 

The young child lit up, and ran towards a little stand selling flowers just slightly out of the action in the square. Daphne followed her steps, and saw that the girl had knelt onto the ground, arranging daisies of varying colours on a stool. 

Taking residence next to her, Daphne said, “Do you know how you can make the flowers look prettier?”

The girl shook her head and looked at her curiously.

Daphne smiled, her first real smile in almost three days, and set her picnic basket down, before working her magic. She carefully weaved the bundle of flowers into a crown no different from the ones her own father used to give her.

“There,” she exclaimed, “now they look pretty enough for a princess!”

Delighted, the child looked on in awe as Daphne put it onto her little head. After a moment she deflated a little, and said, “But I picked them out for you, Miss…”

“Like your mother said, all pretty girls deserve flowers,” Daphne said with a gentle smile, and got up from her position. She reached into her basket, and got out a sweet bread wrapped in waxed paper, “here, darling, for you and your lovely mama.”

Handing the bread to the starry eyed girl, she caught the gaze of a woman not too far away, basket of flowers in hand— she was probably the girl’s mother then— nodding at her. Daphne returned the gesture, and continued her trek into the village, spirits more than renewed.

* * *

“Simon! Simon! Over here!”

A high pitched voice had shouted, followed by a familiar, deeper one, “I’m going to get you little rascals!” 

Daphne cast her eyes around, walking faster towards the sounds of children shrieking and laughing, and in hopes of finding the man who owned the voice.

As she neared the open field that functioned mostly as a recreational spot for the families, she saw a bunch of women standing around relaxed as they watched the game play out. But Daphne couldn’t believe her eyes at the sight of her husband being driven around in circles as he chased the children. She was quite sure she hadn’t seen him look so youthful and carefree before. It was ridiculously amusing, and heartening all the same. 

“Quite the unusual Duke, eh, that boy.” An older woman standing nearby chuckled, “he comes down to entertain the children every once in a while. I sure can’t remember the last one ever being so joyful.”

Intrigued by her remark, Daphne asked, “What do you remember of the late Duke?”

“Oh, child, you don’t know the worst of it,” the woman said, “rumour has it that he killed his wife, labour complications, you see. To be frank, I thought they even mentioned that the heir to the Dukedom had died! And suddenly this wonderful handsome fellow appeared out of nowhere and mentioned that he was going to be taking over, and we were all so grateful, you know? The steward hadn’t very well taken care of matters in the late Duke’s absence.”

Daphne had known most of that already, except well, the apparent common knowledge at one point having been that everyone thought that Simon had died. She acknowledged the woman’s answer with a nod, and turned back to watch her beloved interact with his loyal followers. Apparently, while she had been distracted, the brood had tackled him to the ground and they were now all piled up on top of one another, in an altogether hilarious sight. 

Simon turned his head and she caught the swift changes of his emotions in his eyes as they met hers. Soft, because he had a pile of children on him, then a different softness, when he first noticed her, somewhat like the affectionate man she knew before bed. And then it turned slightly hard, intense, most likely in some fashion of anger, but there was an undercurrent of something else too, almost like... longing.

And then the children started running back towards the waiting women, breaking the spell with their little squeals of laughter. 

Daphne, suddenly remembering where they were, gathered her wits, and turned around to start her little trot back towards the house. Honestly, if they’d looked at each other any longer she might have just— 

Shaking her head, she ridded herself of all those thoughts, and picked up her pace. God knows the last thing she needed was to catch the eye of her husband once more. But that was what she wanted, right? In a way, he’d let her see him in his element, a Duke comfortable with occasionally being a playmate to the children; a gentleman that was always charming, even with the young ones. 

And yet, there was still much of him that he wouldn’t show her. What was their relationship, really, if she could only see the parts of him he wanted her to see?

* * *

Back at the house, she’d ask to have her lunch brought up to her rooms. There was a part of her that felt it was rather unfair to Simon, for she was now being rather hypocritical, but she didn’t think she could handle being settled in the same room with him at the moment. 

After shifting the food around in the plate for some time, Daphne decided that it was rather fruitless to keep doing it, and sent Rose down with the tray nearly as full as when she’d brought it up, claiming that she wanted to rest for the afternoon.

Laying on her bed, she stared at the ceiling, left with only the chirps from the birds outside, and her thoughts for company. She knew that Simon was angry with her, but if he’d truly placed full blame on her for her actions, he probably wouldn’t have left the note, and he definitely wouldn’t be looking at her with such confusing gazes. Just what was he hiding in those swirling depths? Was she wrong to doubt his affections? 

Daphne let the confusing argument circle in her head, as she drifted off, genuinely wearied from her long walks after two, while not sleepless, most definitely not restful nights.

* * *

When she went down for dinner, the table was again, only set for one. Huffing in irritation, Daphne turned a stern look at the staff, taking a sarcastic tone, “Oh is the Duke yet again bothered by the accounts?”

Nervous glances were exchanged around the room before Simon’s valet had joined them, greeting, “Good evening, Your Grace.” Not letting her get another word in edgewise, he continued, “You must excuse His Grace for his absence, for I believe that he has fallen asleep in the study, and as he hasn’t been getting much of it these days, I thought it might be better if we did not disturb his rest.” 

Stunned by the rather blunt way he’d basically berated her, Daphne merely nodded and took her seat at the table, digging into the meal. She’d eaten half her plate— an achievement considering what happened with her lunch— before excusing herself.

Her steps echoed in the hall as she moved purposefully towards her destination. There was probably no reason for her to check on him, but something in her felt like she should. Just before she came across the slightly ajar door of his study, Daphne took a deep breath to calm her nerves; _why was she nervous?_

Pushing the door open as gently as possible (thankfully there was no creaking to give away her presence), she took careful steps into the room, eyes fixated on her husband’s form slumped over the table, head resting on his arms. It definitely couldn’t have been a comfortable position, but Daphne didn’t have the heart to wake him— he looked rather peaceful in his sleep, aside from the worry lines that never seem to disappear. 

Instead, she walked towards the chaise, grabbing a shawl that had been thrown over it (from the last time they’d used it, she was sure), and headed behind the desk, lightly draping the shawl around her husband. She studied his face for a moment, before giving in to temptation, lightly running her fingers along his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles that had gathered there. 

He hummed a little, and Daphne paused in her ministrations, checking if he’d woken up. Ensuring his eyes remained closed and his breathing even, Daphne ran her hands through his hair, once, twice, before cupping his cheek and placing a light kiss on his forehead. 

There were so many things that she’d wanted to tell him, but she was still hurting, and so was he. The small gestures had to suffice for now. 

If Daphne had turned back even once while leaving the study, she would’ve noticed that Simon had cracked an eye open, watching her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to add that this fic was completely self indulgent HAHA, I have no proper update schedule, and am writing as I go (so really, I don't know how long this will end up either; I'm aiming to finish it around 7 chapters), but I'll try not to keep you guys waiting for too long!


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